


where all the mountains have a face

by Isabear



Category: Battle Scars (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, S.H.I.E.L.D. (Marvel TV), Thor (Movies)
Genre: BAMF Maria Hill, F/F, Femslash February, Nia Jones is a spymaster, Nick Fury learned everything he knows from his mom, SHIELD is filming omg!, Women Being Awesome, mild violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-02
Updated: 2013-02-07
Packaged: 2017-11-27 21:38:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/666764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isabear/pseuds/Isabear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nia Jones retired from spying to become a schoolteacher. Then she retired from teaching to save the world. (That wasn't a trade up.)</p><p>Pepper Potts has a ring in a box and someone in her bed, but she's not sure how to connect the two.</p><p>Maria Hill has a mystery she is damn well going to solve, because she does <i>not</i> leave people behind.</p><p>Melinda May would like her past to stop catching up with her so quickly. Any time now. Really.</p><p>And Darcy? She's just here for the coffee. And the really hot Asgardian babes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. maybe god can be on both sides of the gun

**Author's Note:**

> A series of vignettes woven into a complete story, using the [January themes](http://31-days.livejournal.com/2932948.html) from [31_days](http://31-days.livejournal.com/), because it's an incredible set. 
> 
> I'll be posting one chapter per day for Femslash February. Each chapter focuses on the women of MCU or on women from comics pulled into the MCU (because there aren't enough MCU women at _all_ ). I've had to shuffle some backstories to fit everyone into the movie timeline. For example, Nia Jones is Nick Fury, Jr.'s mom in Marvel 616; I'm appropriating her as Nick Fury's mom in MCU because she's really awesome.
> 
> Title from The Triangles' "Let's Replace the Cityscapes".

Nia stood firm, centered, instinctively cataloging every tell her opponent gave away. From the rapid fluttering of eyelids over red-traced whites, to the faint scent of sweat in the air and the slight clumping of damp hair above each ear, the pieces flowed into a single image of barely controlled desperation.

 _Well,_ Nia thought, _I've never been held at arrowpoint before._ It made for an interesting change.

Aloud, she said, "I'm not sure why you think threatening me is going to help you." She looked past the arrow's shaft to the tense jaw, brushed by the tips of three crooked fingers holding the bowstring taut. 

At least that hand wasn't shaking.

"Someone had this address." Tear-thick voice, check. Ability to speak without moving the hand braced for a shot, check. A pro, then.

Still, _someone?_ Nia would need to do some weeding again. Her associates were getting a bit too numerous if any of them were handing out her Atlanta address like candy.

But more interestingly, that voice. Nia hadn't thought drugs - wrong smell, wrong kind of soft-subtle shakes. But in the choice between fear and grief, she'd found fear was more common and more predictable. Grief required a gruffer touch.

"What do you need with me?" Nia didn't bother with the _I'm just an old woman_ routine. Pointless, with someone who'd lain in wait in her own living room for possibly hours, standing in the dark until Nia got home.

A long inhale. "I need you to tell me everything you know about Hawkeye."

Ah. That explained the bow. "I think you know more than I do - Hawkeye."

The young woman's eyes flicked closed briefly, blinking back a well of grief, and Nia darted forward, knocking the bow aside and tripping the kid into a chair. She made a startled sound, grip tightening on her bow, but she didn't fight back.

Calmly, Nia sat down in the opposite chair and twirled the arrow between her fingers. "So, Kate Bishop. Let's try this again. What do you need from me?"

The fingers of Kate's right hand clenched on the empty string of her bow. Her voice, when she spoke, was barely a whisper.

"My- the other-" she breathed deeply, in and out, "Clint Barton is missing."

*

Kate drank her tea in quiet sips, accidentally refined. In contrast, her hands gripped the mug tightly, as if it might fly apart - or she might.

Good thing this kid was a sniper. She gave away too much to be a spy.

Nia sipped her own tea and listened to the story slipping out in alternating drips and pours. How Kate had gone to Barton's apartment to find Lucky with the neighbors, how his top drawer had been empty and his backup bow gone, but his main bow was still there, with her name stuck to it with a sticky note.

("Purple," Kate said, half-laughing, and Nia ignored how she wiped her eyes again.)

Nia listened as Kate tried three times to talk about the message on Barton's answering machine, and finally came to a stop, just breathing.

Nia gave her a moment, then said quietly, "So he left. What do you want me to do about it?"

"I don't think-" one of Kate's thumbs rubbed furiously as the hand of the mug, "I don't believe he left. Of his own will, I mean. SHIELD officially doesn't agree with me, but something was off. I mean, besides him being stupid. It didn't - it didn't feel right."

Nia sighed. "Walk me through what you saw in the apartment again."

Kate bit her lip. "I can do better than that. If you want to see it for yourself?"

Tempting, but. "Who gave you my address? You never said."

Kate's eyes cut away, something she hadn't done since they sat down. _About to lie. Badly._

But Kate surprised her. "I promised I wouldn't-"

"Kate," Nia explained gently, "I'm not going with you to a strange place until you tell me who sent you here. Just in case I'm setting myself up to be a target and need to bring bigger guns."

Kate blinked. "Oh! No, it's. It's not like that. Unless you have a thing with Hill?"

 _Maria Hill?_ "Not that I'm aware of." Nia sat back. "Just to clarify, Deputy Director Hill?"

"Yeah, uh, she told me not to lead with that."

"Smart woman." Because if Maria Hill had sent Kate Bishop here, then that meant Nicky wanted her on this case. And that meant something _had_ happened to Clint Barton, or at least someone in a high position thought so, and Nick wanted it handled quietly.

This was going to take longer than a couple of days.

"Just let me pack," Nia said quietly. "It's a bit cold in New York this time of year."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have _feels_ about Nia, about the way she was treated in Battle Scars and what that says about the unconscious sexism of many superhero comics writers today. Those will go in a separate post to spare you all.


	2. dialogue lost loop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nia invites some old friends, and Kate hears what isn't said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder, for anyone who didn't read the notes at the beginning of chapter 1: this is set in the MCU universe. Therefore, there are some necessary changes to the comics characters.

The couch was covered in dog hair, but there was no dog. The kitchen sink was empty of dishes, but the floor was sticky. Paint cracked along the ceiling behind the television, but the coffee table was clear of all the bottles and cups that had left a pattern of interconnected rings, just visible in the afternoon light.

Nia took every detail in carefully and said nothing. It sure _looked_ like Barton had left on purpose. A second glance in the kitchen told her the trash had been taken out, and another in the bathroom showed no toothbrush.

"He took some clothes, too," Kate said, leading the way to Barton's bedroom, where she pulled out a couple of drawers to prove her point.

 _A person packs half their clothes if they don't have much time, if they think they need to travel light, or if they plan to come back._ Nia didn't say that, either. She shouldn't get Kate's hopes up.

The bed was unmade, also covered in dog hair, and the closet door stood half open. Kate pointed to the corner by the window, where a black compound bow leaned with a purple note stuck to - ah, not directly to the bow but to the wall beside it. _KATE_.

"That his handwriting?"

"Yes," Kate said in a clear voice, but she wasn't looking at the bow.

A sudden knock on the front door had them both turning. 

"You expecting someone?" Kate asked, reaching for Barton's bow.

 _Allies? Friends?_ "Experts," Nia settled, "but you can bring that just in case."

Kate didn't look like she'd been planning to ask permission. Smart kid.

*

Bobbi Morse looked a little older, a little more worn, but she still had the fire from her days as a SHIELD agent, the glint of humor and pride in her eyes that couldn't be rubbed out. By contrast, Maria Hill was tighter, brighter than she'd been when Nia last saw her three years ago. She'd grown into her responsibilities, the economy of her movements more pronounced than ever.

Romanov was exactly the same, except for her hair, which she changed like a chameleon anyway. Today it was shoulder-length, flame red, and curled in soft waves.

"Miz Jones." Maria gave Nia a nod, one equal addressing another. "This isn't an official SHIELD investigation. SHIELD's position is that former Agent Barton was within his rights to leave the Avengers at any time, per contract, and that he has exercised that right."

"And yet you're here." Kate Barton's voice was hard, but at least half of that was uncertainty, Nia suspected. How well did Kate know these women? How much of her perspective on them was filtered through Barton's?

Well, she was going to get a crash course in forming her own opinions, if she didn't know how already. Nia hoped it would be more of a gentle refresher.

*

After the usual round of acknowledgments, Nia excused herself to the bathroom and turned on the tap, running her eyes and hands over all the easily bugged surfaces in the room. Satisfied, she pulled out her second phone - the one she never used for anything else - and dialed a single number not stored anywhere except in her memory.

"I'm on another line with a senator."

And yet he'd taken her call. Nia smiled. "I'm in town, which I'm sure you knew already. Can we meet?"

Nick sighed. "Tomorrow. Do you need a place to stay tonight? I can give you a safehouse."

One of his own, probably. He wouldn't want her on SHIELD records. "No thanks, I've been invited to a mansion."

"Not Stark's, I hope."

She laughed softly. "No."

There was a beat of silence, then he murmured, "Be careful."

"I love you, too."

The soft huff of air before he hung up was answer enough.

*

Kate was standing by the wall when Nia came out, playing with something.

"-had a really old corded phone. I got him a replacement with an actual answering machine built in. Bought it at a flea market, so he couldn't complain too much."

"I already ran the message by our techs," Hill cautioned. "There was nothing in the background besides normal traffic sounds."

"It's not the background," Kate insisted. "It's what he says, and how he says it."

"And the dog," Nia added, because that had been the one point that stood out to her. Clint Barton hadn't called a single teammate or old friend from SHIELD to see if they'd take his dog. He'd left the mutt with neighbors. Yet his couch was covered in dog hair, and so was his unmade bed. 

"He didn't mention the dog in the message," Hill said, her brow furrowed slightly.

"Exactly."

Hill's face cleared in understanding; she reached past Kate and pressed play.

*

_"...So I've been thinking, Katie-Kate. You could do a lot besides shoot things, yeah? Business school, or something else to use all those brains. I'm just sayin'. You could do anything."_

_A pause._

_"So don't wait on me, okay? Go get your life started."_

The message ended in a few seconds of background noise, then silence.

"Again," Morse said, head cocked, listening. Hill pressed reverse, then play.

_"Hey girl, I know you'll get this message eventually. Who else'd be calling?..."_

Kate stood, suddenly. "I'm going to walk Lucky." She grabbed her coat and yanked her gloves on forcefully.

Nia followed her out.

"Hey," Nia said, once they'd retrieved Barton's dog from the neighbors and taken him out to sniff around the edges of the park. "Talk to me, Kate."

"You didn't hear it?" Kate asked, hands stuffed in her pockets, looking down.

Nia shook her head.

"Yeah," Kate laughed without humor, "me neither. He didn't call me Hawkeye."


	3. the colors of the day that lie along your arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pepper hides her dreams under a bushel, and Darcy makes omelets.

Pepper shifted to make space as a warm body slid beneath the covers and curled up on the other side of the bed, hair spilling across the second pillow. The scent of those curls - natural, no perfumes - filled Pepper's senses in the dark, leading her back down into strange dreams.

*

Pepper woke all at once, as she always did in the morning, like the world had turned on in a single moment. With a small yawn, she sat up and stretched both arms above her head until her shoulders popped.

Beside her, Natasha's eyelashes lay still on her cheeks, her hair tucked under her neck, where she preferred it. Pepper watched for long moments, knowing that if she was awake, so was Natasha. Still, she was being given this time to stare, and she couldn't begrudge that.

Early morning sunlight spilled across the bed like a moment of peace sealed in amber, turning Natasha's pale arms golden, casting shadows across her unmarked face. No freckles, no scars, skin smoother than a child's. She could have been a doll, inhuman but for the soft rise and fall of her ribs beneath the blanket.

Pepper's heart caught in her throat; she swallowed it down.

Elsewhere in the tower, there was a little storage room where Pepper kept the things Tony would have thrown out, the precious detritus of a life spent picking up after someone else. In that whole room, there was only one thing that was hers; buried beneath Tony's childhood, his parents, his broken dreams, a single dream of Pepper's went unnoticed (she hoped). The blue velvet box sat under a pile of Tony's discarded awards, hidden in the shadows cast by shiny bits of polished wood and gold leaf.

Natasha's right hand was buried under her pillow, obviously wrapped around the knife she kept sheathed there. (No guns, no guns in Pepper's bed, they had agreed.) Her left hand lay open and empty on top of the covers, fingernails trimmed, unadorned.

How long would it take, Pepper wondered, until she had the courage to try to put a ring there, on that empty hand? To make a physical statement of what she felt?

Or was this desire to leave some mark just a sign of her own self-doubt? It was the kind of question that could drive her in circles if she didn't cut right through it with motion, with activity, with all the people who _needed_ her every day.

But for a moment, she let the doubt run, overlaid with the too-smooth perfection of Natasha's skin.

And still Natasha lay silent and let her look.

*

Wearing her pantsuit like armor, Pepper clicked her way into the communal kitchen to find Jane at the table with an ancient laptop open in front of her, scribbling away in a notebook. She waved at Pepper one-handed, not lifting her pencil from the page.

From the countertop beside the stove, Darcy Lewis called, "Don't bother her! We have a deal. She gets four more minutes." She twisted up on her knees and opened the cabinet behind her, carefully dodging the omelet cooking on the stovetop.

Pepper slipped up behind her, curious. "What are you looking for?"

Darcy sighed and closed the cabinet again. "I told Jarvis I didn't need help."

Pepper raised an eyebrow. Darcy's lips quirked.

"Yeah, okay. Cheese grater?"

Pepper crossed the kitchen, opened a drawer by the refrigerator, and fished out one of three graters inside. "Large slices?"

"You're a peach." Darcy grated cheddar carefully over the steaming omelet, waited for it to melt, and thenslid it onto a plate with a flick of her wrist before refilling the pan with more beaten eggs from a pitcher.

"Time!" she yelled, descending on Jane with the plate and a glass of orange juice. Pepper tried not to laugh at the brief scuffle for the notebook. Of course Darcy emerged victorious, grinning.

"So," Pepper asked, "what do I have to do to earn an omelet?"

"Oh, just be yourself." Darcy breezed past her, pressing Jane's notebook and laptop into her hands along the way. "And keep those away from Jane until she finishes eating."

From across the room Jane grumbled something with her mouth full, and Darcy laughed.

*

Natasha was gone when Pepper ducked back into her room. The bed was smooth, undisturbed. Pepper wondered if the knife was still under her pillow.

She grabbed a pad of paper off the nightstand and wrote: _Leaving for Taiwan tonight. Back in a few days._ She paused, tapping her pen on the paper, then added, _Text me?_

Natasha avoided using anything but burner phones most of the time, since they could give away her general location, but she could have Jarvis do it. If she wanted.

Pepper left the note on Natasha's pillow, grabbed her rolling suitcase, and left for work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the skip there. I spent yesterday revamping the outline a bit. Please note that Kate has been moved to the bottom of the character list, and that her section of the summary has been removed. She's still in the story, just in a greatly reduced role. I love her and enjoy writing her; I hadn't realized that a negative comment could so strongly affect that enjoyment and create actual writer's block. (The things we learn about ourselves... But hey, at least now I know!)
> 
> I'm deeply sorry to anyone who was reading for Kate, because she is totally awesome and deserves more fic.
> 
> But there are still plenty of other awesome women whose plotlines are just beginning to weave in. I should also be getting my Captain Marvel back issues tomorrow or the day after! *crosses fingers* So I left space in the outline to add in Carol if I get inspired.


	4. So shines a good deed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a dog's life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: How far that little candle throws his beams. So shines a good deed in a weary world.

_Crash!_

Nia eased open the door to her room and came out sideways, gun ready. The sun had come up an hour ago, so light was streaming in through the windows, the curtains already tied back by servants who moved so quietly Nia almost hadn't heard them from inside her room.

In the bright light, it was easy to see what had happened.

Lucky sat in the hallway several doors down, scratching behind one ear. Beside him, an ostentatiously expensive lamp lay in blue pieces on the floor, the shade shredded in several places. When he saw her, Lucky jumped to his feet and began wagging his tail.

Nia eased the safety back on her gun and stared down at the mess. My oh my, _that_ was going to piss someone off.

A scuff behind her had her spinning in place, but it was just Kate easing around her own door and lowering her bow. She had one hand pressed over her mouth to hide horror or laughter. Maybe both.

Nia sighed. "So. He got out."

"Of course he did." Kate put her arrow away and scratched behind Lucky's ear. "He's got good taste. I hated that lamp."

That, of course, was when Susan Bishop showed up.

*

Nia smiled and shifted her grip on Lucky's leash. "We can eat and walk."

Nick shot her a dubious glance. "It's barely above freezing out here."

"Then we'll walk briskly."

She had to admit, as she stepped out of the restaurant with two hot pitas steaming in the cold to the sight of Nick standing on the sidewalk, holding Lucky's leash and eyeing the mutt as hard as the mutt was eyeing him back, that this might just be one of the best parts about being a mom: embarrassing her child.

"Here," she unwrapped one end of the sandwich and handed it to him, not offering to take Lucky's leash back.

The second biggest compliment he always paid her was eating what she gave him without question.

The biggest compliment, of course, was that he still called her "ma'am" in his head, even though he never said it out loud. Right now, she could tell he was saying it in his most exasperated voice. He wasn't ten; he couldn't say ' _Why?_ ' with dignity anymore. But he could still think it, and she could always tell.

"Sweetie," she drawled, letting the South drip back into her voice, "you're gonna do me a favor, aren't you? He's a sweet dog. He just needs to sleep somewhere... less expensive."

Nick took a bite out of his wrap and chewed fiercely, but he didn't say no.

*

"Sir?"

Fury steepled his fingers on his desk and sighed. "Don't give me that look, Agent. I know that look. You're thinking if you just act like you have no idea what I asked, I'll give up and ask someone else."

"Sir." Maria put on her best blank face. She could still get out of this.

"No. I just spent nearly an hour walking this dog in freezing weather, trying to eat with one hand and still be able to reach my gun with the other. No. I love that woman, but I am not taking care of this dog. Find a volunteer."

Maria eyed the mongrel happily chewing on a corner of Fury's desk and carefully refrained from grinding her teeth. "Yes, sir."

At least she had explicit permission to pass the buck.

*

"Gemma. Please. One night - I'll find someone else tomorrow."

Gemma rolled her eyes and yanked off her latex gloves, tossing them in the trash. "Can't you take him?"

Melinda sighed. "Have you even listened to anything I've said at lunch for the past three months? I have a cat now. I can't take the dog."

"You have a cat? Since when?" Gemma looked genuinely surprised, and Melinda closed her eyes for just a moment, letting herself remember what it was like to be in the air, g-forces pulling, the world reduced to speed and freedom. 

The moment cleared her head and let her remember that Gemma was brilliant, Gemma was a genius, she just didn't hear when other people said words that didn't have biology in them somewhere. So, pretty much she didn't hear anyone but her labmates and sometimes Fitz.

"You like animals," Melinda tried.

"Dead ones, mostly," Gemma admitted. "But he's kind of cute, in an 'oh my god who bred that dog' kind of way." The dog obligingly wagged his tail, giving puppy eyes for all he was worth.

"He likes pizza, I was told."

Gemma grinned. "I'll have to see if he'll eat anchovies."

"Thank you," Melinda said quickly, passing over the leash. "His food and bowls are in this bag. He probably needs water by now."

Gemma began to look a bit worried. "I can bring him back tomorrow, right? I can't leave a dog alone at my place all day. He'll pee everywhere."

"Yes, of course, bring him back tomorrow," Melinda edged toward the door, "and we'll find somebody else then." 

Ducking through the doorway, she almost bumped into Fitz, who looked startled, then grinned and asked, "Something up?"

"Nothing," Melinda said, and walked off with firm steps. Behind her, she heard Fitz begin to coo over the dog and argue with Gemma about what breed he was.

*

Gemma settled on her tiny couch in her tiny living room, shifting a blanket over her bare feet and grabbing the remote. The pizza box lay closed on the table in front of her, and somewhere in the background the dog was lapping up water like he was trying to swallow a lake.

"Don't make a mess, you!" she warned him. "Oh, hey, I didn't get your name. Huh. Well, I guess you'll be 'Dog' for a day. Are you good with that, Dog?"

Dog came trotting out of the kitchen to press his wet muzzle against her knee, then sniff the pizza box.

"Guess you are. Well then, shall we find out about the anchovies?"

*

She went to bed that night with Dog lying across her feet, keeping them warm. 


	5. will time stand still if it's pierced with cold?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stargazing and catching snowflakes on her tongue: file under 'things Sif never thought to do before she met Darcy Lewis'.

Dinner had been some strange Midgardian delight, hot cheese lightly breaded and fried in oil, plus a more traditional cut of beef.

"If Jane hadn't gotten her Stark Industries upgrade, I'd never be able to afford you," Darcy had laughed, and Sif had felt a brief pang of shame. She had never thought to inquire after Darcy's finances. It was not a question one asked in Asgard. Guests were guests, and a host would bankrupt herself before she allowed a guest to go hungry.

Yet another custom which Midgard apparently shared, but not without complications. She resolved to pay heed to the numbers printed beside the titles of each dish next time they visited a restaurant.

Now the two of them were journeying back across the snow-covered ground to Darcy's home, a small collection of chambers within a hall shared by dozens of other Midgardians. Darcy claimed to enjoy having such close neighbors. _"It's easier to sleep if I know there're other people around, you know?_

Sif both did and did not. It was yet another way in which they were ever so slightly distinct from one another, as if a thin wall of warped glass stood between them.

"Hey grumpy," Darcy murmured, brushing Sif's ribs lightly with her elbow. "Penny for your thoughts?"

Sif knew this phrase now, and refrained from holding her hand out for coin. "I am merely reflecting on the differences between Midgard and my own experiences. I wonder-" she paused, "I wonder if they will prove too great for me to bridge."

"Hey," Darcy turned and caught her shoulder in one hand, "no, none of that. This isn't _Midgard_ \- it's just New York. There are thousands of other cities on this planet, and they're all different, filled with people with different lives. I mean, have you been to L.A.? It's like another planet. So we Midgardians _all_ end up where you are right now, if we bother to leave home, like, ever."

Sif tried to imagine thousands of cities, all as alien and awkward as this one, and could only see Yggdrasil in her mind. No wonder Midgard was the center, if its diversity was like the branches of the entire tree, condensed into a single world.

She wet her cold lips. "I am accustomed to battling the doubts of others, not my own."

Darcy wrapped both hands around Sif's elbow and rested her head briefly on Sif's shoulder. "Welcome to my life."

Sif sucked in a sharp breath, wondering if this was yet another strange Midgardian saying or a genuine invitation. 

Best not to ask. Not yet.

*

_The feast hall felt stifling. Escaping to the balcony, Sif took deep breaths of chilled, sweet air._

_Her eye caught the figure by the balustrade, and she stepped back quickly. "My queen, I'm sorry-"_

_"No, never apologize," Frigga said quietly, turning her head and smiling. "Join me?"_

_"Of course."_

_They stood in silence for long minutes, hands side by side on the railing. Frigga's eyes cast not out across Asgard or toward the shimmers of the slowly rebuilding Bifrost, but up to the stars above. Sif followed her gaze and took in the familiar names, the shapes they made for navigation._

_Frigga interrupted her own silence. "Among the Vanaheim, we have a tradition we have gifted other worlds, and yet strangely not the people of Asgard. Perhaps I have been too jealous, keeping this secret for myself."_

_It still startled Sif at times to recall that Frigga was not an Asgardian by birth, so fluidly did she move among the Asgardians, her place carved solid as the palace around them._

_"When we look at the stars, we do not merely align them and mark their position for navigation and travel. We see figures in them, shapes of the past and future, stories of great heroes, beasts, wild loves. Strange tales of the part of ourselves which is not civilized. The part which yearns to break out of our roles._

_"Of course, most of them are tragedies. Yet not all."_

_Sif's eye was drawn to a soft yellow star on the edge of the horizon, almost overwhelmed by the glittering bridge of the Bifrost. "What of that one? What is its tale?"_

_Frigga smiled. "I do not know. It has not been told yet."_

*

_Later, much later, when Sif stood on the edge of the world at Himinbjörg, where the Bifrost bridge jutted out over vast nothing, Odin gave his gruff blessing, but Frigga took one of Sif's hands in both her own and said, "I have no daughter of my body, but I have one of my heart."_

_"You Majesty," Sif whispered, a brief wash of moisture in her eyes, quickly blinked away._

_Frigga smiled and released her. "Your brother waits."_

_Turning, Sif strode across the playful light, rainbows echoing from her steps. Across the bridge, Heimdall watched her, as he always had, with pride on his face._

_Midgard waited, a speck of soft gold in the evening sky._

*

"Penny for your thoughts," Darcy said softly, then did not wait to hear them before releasing Sif's arm and darting forward. Fresh snow had begun to fall as they walked, and now Darcy spun, face tilted up, mouth open, tongue out.

She looked ridiculous.

Sif snorted out loud, startling herself. "What is this thing you do?"

"Cathing thnowflaketh!" Darcy declared, tongue still out. "C'mon!"

It looked ridiculous. Silly. ...Fun?

Cautiously, Sif opened her mouth and slid out her tongue. The first speck of ice to land on it startled her. How could such a tiny thing carry so much cold?

Soon she was spinning and laughing with Darcy, not quite as wild as her friend, but the sky was full of snowflakes like stars falling all around them, and she could not shake the feeling that each one had a story of its own that had yet to be told.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, there's going to be a gap tomorrow. I don't want to leave you on a cliffhanger, so I'm posting both chapters on Friday instead. I mean, unless you _want_ a cliffhanger.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's subscribed and following! I really appreciate your vote of confidence.


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